Its been a while...

Nine months, to be exact. Life has changed dramatically in that short time.

My beloved grandmother died in October.

My second child was born in November.

I started a new job in February.

We are building a house.

I've fallen back in love with my husband.

I'm OK.

I'm happy.

Life is good.

The Interpreter

I'm having one of those experiences that are happening a bit more frequently in my life -- getting exactly what I need at the time that I need it, without me KNOWING that was exactly what I needed. In other words, I didn't force it, manipulate anyone/anything or "create" the outcome.

The same wise woman that offered me that earlier twist on prayer (we'll call her Sage from here on out) also lent me a book called "Loving What Is." I'm just getting started, but as you may have read in my previous posting, my search for the truth (as in, HOW to tell or see the truth) is "on." This book offers a series of 4 questions to be applied to a particular thought or feeling one is having and breaks it down. You get past your own programming and get to the root of it or to the basics. The author, Byron Katie, quotes the Greek philosopher Epictetus:

"We are disturbed not by what happens to us, but by our thoughts about what happens."

I get that. I know my thinking is twisted. I also know that some of my interpretive "skills" were taught to me by two similarly distorted human beings. So part of this process for me as an adult is to first recognize how much of my slant on things is truly MINE and how much of it is my parents' filter.

Another excerpt from the book that I appreciated, due to the "scientific" validation (read that someone else found it to be true, and it applies to me, so I am NOT crazy):

"Contemporary neuroscience identifies a particular part of the brain, sometimes called "the interpreter," as the source of familiar internal narrative that gives us our sense of self."

And:

"Perhaps the most important revelation is precisely this: that the left cerebral hemisphere of humans is prone to fabricating verbal narratives that do not necessarily accord with the truth."

And:

"The left brain weaves its story in order to convince itself and you that it is in full control...what is so adaptive about having what amounts to a spin doctor in the left brain? The interpreter is really trying to keep our personal story together. To do that, we have to learn to lie to ourselves."

Man is it getting DEEP in here...

I just read what my brother-in-law David said on his blog about being truthful in his writing, and it struck a cord with me. I, unlike David, have NOT lived a very truthful life until recently. That's not to say that because I lied, everything about me was fake. But it sure had to suck for those around me - not believing in someone is a bitch.

My mother once (or twice) told the story of my first spoken sentence: "I didn't touch your perfume and it didn't spill." The overwhelming stench of Youth Dew and the near-empty bottle said otherwise. Point is, early on I learned to tell people what I thought they wanted to hear. I also said things about myself or my day-to-day life that were "amplified" or flat out fibs. Somewhere along the line I decided that I need to be "bigger, better, faster, WOW." That just "me" was far from fascinating.

No -- don't go there. This isn't a "poor me" thing. Rather a reflection on what could possibly possess any child to hold THOSE perceptions as truths. Without delving too deeply into it here (too much of a tangent), suffice it to say that I just did the best I could with what I had. Survival skills, whatever. It served a purpose. At some point, though, it became so second nature that I couldn't keep it all straight and I honestly couldn't remember what was really real.

Later, when I was struggling with my addicition to alcohol and couldn't continue living if I drank, but couldn't imagine a life WITHOUT it, drinking became the only thing I lied about (everything else seemed suddenly pointless). Lied to the people I loved the most and least wanted to hurt or disappoint. I returned, once again, to the belief that I was somehow protecting them by not telling them when I'd slipped. In reality, it was crazy making for everyone.

One of the things suggested as a tool for continued abstinence is both prayer and meditation. I couldn't get my head around the stereotypical Christian "ideal" of prayer, and having no experience with the "how to's" regarding it, a truly wise woman suggested that I rethink the entire process. She is familiar with my twisted "truths" and offered up the idea that perhaps I could just think of it as a dialogue between God & me...that was pure truth. My truth. Not censored or rewritten or homogonized for review, criticism or judgement by another person. Never having done this before, I admit that I still don't do it very often. Just like anything that is unfamiliar, it takes practice. But this is more than that -- this is a complete reprogramming of my thought process and interaction with others. It is awkward and funky and is going to take a lifetime of work.

Milestones...mold...mildew...mosquitos

We have celebrated lots of milestones over the past few weeks... Mother's Day, our 5 year anniversary, Nathan's 2nd birthday and my 37th-freaking birthday. Christian & Tracy also hit the big 40 milestone as gracefully as I've ever seen it done. Both are such beautiful women inside and out -- I hope I can only look and appear to feel as good as they both do.

I've also felt the baby move this week -- more than the little flutters or gurgles in earlier weeks. That helps because after the first rush of discovering you are pregnant and one or two ultrasounds, the next several months are anticlimatic. You aren't obviously pregnant -- just look like you ate a few too many containers of Ben & Jerry's (which I did).

I've also had the misfortune of watching a very dear friend struggle with her many addictions (alcohol, drugs, bulimia) and finally give in to all of them after two years of sobriety. She's sober today and that's all that matters, but the battle with the bottle is a terrifying thing to both witness and experience. No one has ever written about it quite like Ann Patchett in Truth & Beauty. If you haven't had the opportunity to read it -- do so.

Ten days straight of rain...we've got moss growing in every crack in the driveway and covering our garden beds. Towels go sour in 2 hours. Mosquitos the size of B-52 bombers are chewing up the very delicious skin of my 2 year old. CARRY ME BAAAAAAAAACK TO OLD VIR-GINNY!

Happy Holidays...Season's Greetings...etc. etc.

We are eagerly awaiting the arrival of Nathan's great grandmother Jinny tomorrow afternoon. It will be a welcome diversion from the earlier part of the day - Nathan is having tubes inserted into his eardrums in an attempt to stop the constant ear infections. Later in the week we will be joined by Amy, David & Baby Declan. House full of love! 

Hey, Little Momma!

Here's the rest of the story...

Up at 3am after my little man awoke screaming bloody murder at midnight. Hopped on the Concord Bus to Logan and got here with time to spare +. Ironically, my ATM card was bunk -- couldn't get cash and after my first charge, couldn't do P.O.S. charges either. Kept saying my PIN was invalid -- just went thru this several weeks ago -- what gives?!?! Now I'm getting ready to purchase my 5 cup of coffee... :)

First BLOG venture...

Not sure how exactly this differs from a website, but I had to try it.

I've had a heck of a time with sticking to a journal, much less keeping up with my email communication with friends and family, so there is a good chance I won't stick with this.

Thought for the day...

"If you always tell the truth, you never have to remember anything."
-- Mark Twain